Page 2 of Henhouse
Ellen silenced her alarm. Bea sipped her tea like things were about to get juicy and she was happy for a front-row seat. Effie’s mother might have been surprised, but her face didn’t show it. Grams held a wrinkled hand to her already full heart. Louisa’s shoulders relaxed, happy for the pivot to delay the rejection of her request, and Tibby . . .
Tibby got pregnant with Hope shortly after Pamela’s own positive test. The men they loved left within that same year, just a month after Hope and three months after Louisa entered the world.
Aunt Tibby was pragmatic, much like Ellen but even more so. Her long hair faded from grey to brown and she had a deeply grounding energy. She had loved Hope’s father and maybe it was her trusting nature, her tendency to plan for all outcomes, or her deep intelligence that kept her blind, but she hadn’t expected to raise Hope alone. Tibbywanted nothing like that for her little girl, so it came as no surprise to Effie that Tibby’s jaw nearly reached the floor.
“Aunt Tibby,” Effie started, but the words got stuck on the flavor of thyme. Effie’s interjection nudged Tibby enough to compose herself though.
No one, other than Effie, had known Hope was seeing someone. Not even Effie had been aware of how serious they were. She opened her mouth to speak, to offer some support, but she froze.
The chasm opened between them.
Hope locked eyes with her, and she knew it too. This would change so much for them, and Hope had been afraid to tell Effie. Afraid to tell everyone, but she had done it to rip off the Band-Aid or spare Louisa another no from Effie’s mother. Effie wasn’t sure which was the truth. Not that it mattered.
“And I’m elated. And no, I haven’t told the father yet. And no, I don’t want anyone’s opinion on that,” Hope asserted before placing her napkin on the table and rising from her seat. “Excuse me.” And then she left.
Effie stared after her. It stung that Hope hadn’t told her first. The uneasy truth that Effie must have let Hope down felt even worse. She hadn’t made a haven for her to share in her joy and her love—if those things were true—or else she would have told Effie. They told each other everything.She thought.
Ellen’s alarm went off again, and this time everybody hopped to. The kitchen emptied within minutes, save for Effie, Bea, and Dorothea. They carried plates and bowls to the dishwasher that stuck out like a sore thumb, having been retrofitted into the original cabinetry along the right-hand wall.
“How do we always get stuck with clean up?” Bea whined, eliciting a grin from Effie.
“I think it’s because we’re too fabulous to be constrained by the rules of society,” Effie offered with a wink. “Or, you know, as much as possible.”
Dorothea chuckled. “But damn if I wouldn’t rather have this than dinner duty . . . suckers.” Effie laughed out loud but knew firsthand the toils of dinner duty for such a large bunch. Bea and Grams were the only twonoton the dinner rotation. Effie checked her watch.
“You’re dismissed,” Grams said, nudging Effie. “Go talk to her before you have to leave too.”
Effie kissed Dorothea on the cheek, then Aunt Bea, before chasing Hope upstairs.
Effie hoped she’d know the right thing to say, the words that would be sincere, helpful, and honest. Words that would taste right coming from her and sweeten the truth for Hope.
Effie was not good at being anything more than a willing ear. Her advice, while well-intentioned, came from an inexperienced place. She couldn’t even fathom how Hope had gotten here.
They had spent countless hours discussing that they wanted to live and travel and succeed in their own little ways before becoming mothers. Not that their family wasn’t successful after motherhood, but they wanted something different.
They wanted love and devotion, partnership and great romance before they considered how life would evolve from there. That shared vision when Hope returned from college resulted in a mutual plan for celibacy. A vow to be sure they found a good man before being too vulnerable. Effie always believed they’d feared the Thatcher curse withthe same gusto, but maybe that didn’t mean to Hope what it meant to Effie.
To Effie, it meant keeping her twenty-three-year-old heart—and legs—closed until she found the love of her life. Effie had to be sure. She had to know it would be forever. She thought she and Hope were on the same page about that . . . Apparently not.
Effie climbed the stairs to find Tibby leaning against Hope’s door. She looked defeated. Effie dropped onto the floor beside her.
“I’m showing houses to new buyers in twenty minutes.” Tibby sighed. “I can’t get a hold of them to reschedule, I just—I don’t want her to think I’m mad or disappointed, I just. I didn’t know what to say.”
Effie grabbed her aunt’s hand, squeezing it tight. Even if Effie didn’t always know what to say either, she was excellent at the handholding. Everyone knew it. They leaned on her silent support anytime they knew words would undo them.
“I can let her know,” Effie offered. Tibby patted the back of Effie’s hand and stood. She wiped the tears from her eyes.
“How do I look?” Tibby asked. Effie was certain she just wanted to know if she could be seen in public and her eyes hadn’t reddened too much, but Effie always admired Tibby’s effortless beauty, how she embraced her laugh lines and her years.
“Stunning. As always.” Effie smiled.
Tibby gave a grateful nod and hurried off to her appointment as Pamela emerged from her room down the hall in a set of NICU pink scrubs. “You never say those things to me,” Pamela huffed as she pulled her shoulder-length, bottle-blonde hair into a ponytail.
“Would you believe me if I did?” Effie asked.
“Probably not,” Pamela admitted. “Oh! Will you see if you got moreof that baby-pink merino wool in at the store? I want to knit more hats.”
“Sure.”
